A short poem heralding King Arthurs departure to Avalon.
Image via Wikipedia
Drifting silently across the lake
Morose on board as our Lord lays limp
Around his side gathers maidens so pure
As they bathe the crimson that spills from his wound
The waves lap gently across the bow
As the boat steers slowly but further ahead
Words are not spoken but voices are heard
As news travels fast that Arthur is dead
A fine piece of poetry Pete … was King Arthur’s head resting in the lap of the Lady of the Isle of Avalon? .. or the lap of Queen Morgana le Fay? 
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